


A Bit of Comfort

by ValerieViolette (Perydot)



Series: Out of the Labyrinth [1]
Category: Etrian Odyssey IV: Legends of the Titan, Etrian Odyssey Series
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 21:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2165619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perydot/pseuds/ValerieViolette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your night of what would have been wallowing at the Dancing Peacock goes differently than expected...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bit of Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a quasi-sequel to my other piece, The Tides of Armoroad.

The bustling tavern was the backdrop to your wallowing tonight, just like every night. The loud laughter of a group in good spirits could be heard from your seat at the bar. They were celebrating the engagement of their medic. You didn’t try to stop the rolling of your eyes as you took a swig of your drink. The liquid burned your throat as it went down. The clanking of metal alerted you to the arrival of explorers.

“Evening, Kirtida!” the group’s bowman greeted with a wide smile and a small salute. You glanced at the group. The leather clad dom standing behind the sniper gave you a sharp glare before turning his attention to the drinks held behind the bar counter. You huffed a little at the man’s scorn, smirking as you returned to your drink. You ignored the rest of the group’s conversation with the proprietress, although you did hear that they were there to turn in a quest.

Another gulp of alcohol went down your throat. You then heard the egotistical boasting of a swordsman, which made you groan quietly. Kirtida gave you a quick glance, a smile forming on her lips. She went back to filing the other bar patrons glasses (the group had decided to stay there for a while). How she managed to deal with the condescending attitudes of these explorers, you didn’t know. You couldn’t deal with them, even after all your years as one.

You slowly swirl your drink around in its glass, watching the amber liquid glisten in the warm, rosy gold light of the tavern. It was the soundtrack to your night: the laughter, the happy cheers, the ooh’s and ahh’s of the swordsman’s companions, the smugness of the swordsman himself, the conversation of the adventurers at the bar, the clinking of the glasses as Kirtida busied herself with work. You had become used to this type of atmosphere during your years as an explorer. It was like this in every bar in every town you’ve taken up in. It was only for four years that these constant sounds had annoyed you to no end.

You had your own story, a recounting of your journey from many countries and labyrinths. It wasn’t a story you were proud of… A heavy sigh escaped your lips as memories of the past replayed themselves. You drained your glass of its alcohol and before you could call for a refill, Kirtida was already pouring you another drink. She gave a knowing smile before moving onto another customer.

You were about to take another gulp when your sensitive ears picked up on the sound of someone’s quiet crying. It wasn’t out of place to hear that in a bar of an exploring town, but for some reason, it made you curious. You turn your head in the direction that you heard the crying from. Slumped over in her chair was an alchemist, her wool cap slapped down on the empty table before her. Her cheeks were ruddy red and stained with tears. Mucus slowly dribbled from her nostrils, but she keeping sniffing to keep it from touching her lips. You watch her for a few long moments, seeing her face scrunch up as she almost started to break down and then returned to normal as she stopped herself.

The other explorers noticed her as well, but returned to their normal conversation after a moment’s pause. A deep breath in, a few berating thoughts to yourself (“What are you doing? Why are you about to go over there? You never cared about these people before! Leave her be!”), alcohol in hand, and you were walking over to her table. “Can I sit here?” you asked, but you didn’t wait for her answer as you sat down next to her.

She looked at you with wide, bloodshot eyes before staring at the wooden table. She gulped, quickly wiping her tears and snot on her long sleeves. “What do you want?” she asked with a husky voice. You were slightly taken aback; you were not expecting such a voice from such a child-like person as the girl before you.

“Something’s wrong,” you said, bordering on the edge of a question and a statement. The girl parted her lips as though she was about to say something, but she kept quiet. A tear fell from her left eye and she quickly wiped it away. “I see…” you said at her silence. You slowly slide your drink towards her, turning it from where your mouth was. “I’m sure this will help.”

“I don’t drink,” she quickly told you.

“What kind of adventurer doesn’t drink?” you scoffed.

She gave you a sharp look, about to fight you on the subject, but she deflated. Her eyes fell onto the glass before her, her pale blue eyebrows furrowed. “Fine…” she relented, taking a big gulp of your whiskey. She grasped her throat, coughing as the drink went down. “If… if you plan was to get a girl drunk—”

“I don’t care about that,” you bluntly said, cutting her off. You stared at her ruddy, youthful face. “I just know that you went through something…” You paused, thinking of the right word. “Terrible.”

She looked away from you, staring at the other side of the bar. Her eyes fell upon the celebrating group of explorers. A tear fell down her cheek as others formed in her blue eyes. You kept your stare on her, watching as her facial expressions changed with the way she was feeling. Her eyes were fixated on the group on the other side of the bar. More tears fell down her face and she didn’t bother to wipe them away. “We used to be like them…” she whispered. “Happy, ready for anything, full of courage…” You immediately understood what she was talking about.

“What happened?”

“What always happens!” she answered with a snappy voice. “We went in thinking we were stronger than anything and everybody, and…” She took in a shaky breath, lip quivering. She was staring down at the wooden table. “We got cornered by those patrollers in the library. Zacharius thought we could take them on. That it would only take a few good hits before they went down. He was always such a rash guy, never caring about what anyone else said… Dia told him it wasn’t a good idea and that we should go back to town. Althea backed her up, but she only did it because—” the girl laughed a little “—because ‘I don’t want to be sitting around for an hour patching all you guys up, you fucking idiots!’ She wasn’t really the soft-hearted and caring kind of medic, you know?” She gave you a quick glance, a soft smile on her face.

“I knew someone like that,” you whispered, although you weren’t sure to whom. Was it to the girl, or were you just talking to yourself? A smile was resting on your lips nonetheless.

“I guess there are people like that everywhere. Their personalities not really matching their job description.” The girl went quiet for a moment. What would’ve been silence was filled with the bar’s melody of sounds. “Vladimir didn’t say anything. He usually didn’t talk, not that we would’ve understood him if he did. He had this really thick accent because he came from this other country to the south of here. It’s… it _was_ kind of like yours,” she said. “He was on board with Zacharius, though. It was a two-two split, and I was the one who had to break the tie. I sided with Zacharius because I have this… _had_ this stupid crush on him.” Tears fell down her cheeks in broad rivers.

You nodded slowly. You understood the girl in front of you; you had a similar experience. “If I had just thought about the situation more… if I wasn’t such a lovestruck girl…” She let out a string of curses, hiding her face behind her hands. She started crying, full on sobbing. These were not the quiet tears that you had first heard from your seat at the bar. She held in her whimpers by biting her lip, but you could still hear her sharp intakes of breath. You stared at her, calm and quiet, before leaning forward to take your drink back from her. You took a sip, staring at the wooden table before you.

You didn’t say anything for a few minutes, just taking small sips from your drink. You looked up at the girl occasionally. You thought about saying something to her, but you didn’t really have the words. You just waited until she had calmed down. She sniffed, wiping her tears and snot off on her sleeve, and you handed her your drink again. She drank it without comment.

You cleared your throat as you finally decided to say a few things to the pale blue haired girl in front of you. “I’m not going to comfort you and say everything’s going to get better or anything. It’s not… I have first-hand experience with this kind of thing,” you said. The girl’s eyes fell to the table.

“You’re not going to be able to forget about what happened. You’re not going to stop thinking about it. You’re going to keep thinking, ‘Maybe if I had done this’ or ‘Maybe if I _didn’t_ do this’. You’re always going to remember your comrades. How happy they used to be, how prideful they used to be, how quiet they would get when they saw the bloodied armor of yet another guild killed in the labyrinth.” You took a moment to catch your breath. “How much they used to drink and eat and snore, and how terrible they looked in the morning and…” You trailed off, thinking about your own lost guild. You didn’t say anything for a long minute. “You’re still going to remember them and wish you did something differently, so that they could be alive. You’re going to wish that you had died instead of them.”

The girl looked at you with a why-are-you-telling-me-this look. You cleared your throat again. “You’re going to do all of those things; nothing’s going to change that. The only bit of comfort I can give you is that you can keep living. That you can keep going and fulfill their hopes and dreams for them. That you won’t let their deaths be in vain. That you’ll do everything in your power to make sure that what they wanted came to fruition. Ah…” you scratched the back of your neck. “I said it wasn’t going to be comforting…”

The girl was quiet for a long while, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. You took the opportunity to drain the glass of the amber whiskey. “Well—”

“Thank you.”

“What?”

“Thank you,” the girl repeated. “I needed to… I needed something like that.” She looked to you and gave you a look of… happiness? You gave her a short nod, confused at her sudden change in emotion. She quietly grabbed her wool hat and stood up from her chair. Bunching the fabric in her small hands, she turned to look down at you. “Thank you…” And with that she left the Dancing Peacock.

You sat in your seat, staring at the now empty seat next to you. Did you really say something that made a difference for that girl? Was your advice really that great? If it was, why weren’t you doing the same thing? Why weren’t you out with another guild, exploring this new town and its labyrinths, small and large? You went to take another sip of whiskey when you remembered that you had drunk it all.

Trying to ignore the questions forming in your head, you walked back to the bar, reclaiming your regular seat. Amber liquid went into your clear glass without you needing to ask. Kirtida must have known to just keep pouring drinks until someone said the word “Stop” or when someone was thoroughly drunk. “Didn’t know you were the nice and comforting type,” she said.

“What?” You looked at her as she raised an eyebrow, a smirk on her lips. “Oh… Neither did I.”

“In any case, he—” she looked over the scornful Nightseeker from earlier “—paid for your drinks for the night, so drink up, buddy!” She left the bar after that small comment, going to talk to the other bar patrons. You quietly looked over at the leather-clad man, raised your glass to him, and took a long gulp. You briefly wondered why he paid for your drinks, considering he immediately gave off the impression that he didn’t like you, but you pushed the thought out of your head. You were going to enjoy your night now. You didn’t have to pay for your alcohol and you were happy about it. That was _your_ bit of comfort for the night.


End file.
